Joyce Andersen: My Mother, My Mentor

Joyce Anderson
Joyce Anderson

Two weeks ago, a colleague, Morongwa Phala-Goodwill, casually said: “Ausi Pam, did you hear about Mma Andersen?” I froze. “Ijoo! Please don’t tell me she is gone.” No. Not yet I later realised. Joyce Andersen, the woman I had known all my life as Ausi Joyce, had had a stroke, and within days, by Saturday, she was gone. I was numb.

I then went into a guilt trip, that of failed promises to visit her at her new place of abode, Kasane. Once in a while, I would call her, and lie through my teeth that “definitely Ausi Joyce, ntla etitaya ka thupana ke tle koo.” She knew I would not honour the promise, as, I had many times before, over decades, avoided that sit for  ‘mother-to-daughter’ talk.

Mother-to-daughter? As I stated earlier, I had known Ausi Joyce all my life. She was there when I was born some donkey years back in Mahalapye, to her friend, Margaret Onkgopotse Dube. She had shared stories of my growing life, which at times my mum neglected to.

Editor's Comment
Inspect the voters' roll!

The recent disclosure by the IEC that 2,513 registrations have been turned down due to various irregularities should prompt all Batswana to meticulously review the voters' rolls and address concerns about rejected registrations.The disparities flagged by the IEC are troubling and emphasise the significance of rigorous voter registration processes.Out of the rejected registrations, 29 individuals were disqualified due to non-existent Omang...

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